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The strange fate of Odessa following the temporal anomaly at Moab continues, and only gets weirder.

Date

May 1, 2009

I don't ever care to rise to power

A double-lane yellow stripe leads across upheaved and broken pavement, cast in the shadows of towering skyscrapers gutted by atomic fire. Piles of concrete debris litter the sidewalks, strewn with glittering shards of glass and twisted street lights. The sky above is carpeted with a thick blanket of slate gray, pillowy like cotton but with the chalky texture of ash.

I would rather be with you an hour

For the last thirty minutes, the same bent tin can has clattered down that street, coming to a skittering stop before meeting with the same scuffed wingtip shoe that knocks it on another tumbling and bouncing journey across fire-baked pavement. It's the only thing managing to keep Woods' attention on the walk from whatever surrealist nightmare he's found himself lost in. Because, of course, Woods' is under the understanding that this is all his vivid hallucination, and nothing else could clearly be going on.

For the things that one can buy

Casting blue eyes up to the cloudy skies, he stops his incessant kicking of the can, feet scuffing to a stop as his brows squint, catching something on the tip of his nose, causing it to wrinkle. One hand comes up, brushing an index finger across the snowflake, only to find it smudge and smear a charcoal gray color. Lovely it rains ash here in Oz.

Are not worth a lover's sigh

Rubbing his thumb and forefingers together with that sooty grit, Woods turns to look at the brunette woman behind him, down to her red heels and then back up again. There's some amount of silent expectance there, even as he arches one brow and follows her as she saunters on past him, as the thick flakes of ash begin to drift down in a more steady cadence from the grimy heavens above.

I don't want to set the world on fire

"Oh come on," he blurts out, waving both hands at his side, "come on isn't this all just a little bit bloody weird?" He huffs, exasperatedly, and begins following after Odessa with clomping footfalls. "We just fell out of the sky in a house, and— Odessa, are you even listening to me?"

I just want to start a flame in your heart

Woods hustles up to catch the short brunette, moving to walk backwards in front of her, gesticulating wildly as he talks. "Angela Petrelli just showed up pretending she was Cruella DaVille of Little Orphan Annie or— You seem awfully calm about all of this!" Woods, of course, is not calm at all. Then again, he never was in life, a bag of neurotic emotions and wildly waving hands — just like he is now.

In my heart I have but one desire

"I just think maybe we should— " A choking hurk sound comes from Woods as he trips over something, walking backwards as he does — the tin can. Landing on his backside, a clunk of his head against the pavement sends vision blurring, and James' eyes blink open and closed slowly, head rolling to the side as he spots something in an abandoned parking lot between two derelict skyscrapers. Hung up on a chain-link fence, a wiry young man with a mop of dark hair is surrounded by ravens, perched on his shoulders and on the fence he's strung up to. Woods' lips part slowly, and he stares at the man as he comes into focus, bringing the only possible response he can from the Brit.

And that one is you, no other will do

"Pete?"

"Panic isn't going to do me any good," Odessa responds smoothly. "Of course this whole situation is weird. But…" The brunette woman's head tips to one side and slowly a fond smile spreads across her lips. None of this can possibly be real. But he seems real. "Oh, Woods…" And then the man falls over the tin can he'd been kicking. "Oh, Woods!" Her eyes grow wide as leans over him with a concerned expression. Are you all ri-"

"Oh, my gosh." Odessa follows Woods' gaze and spots… "It can't be." She reaches down to grasp Woods' hands, tugging him to his feet. "Oh, come on! Help me get him down from there!" There is a part of Odessa that wants to leave Peter strung up to that fence, remembering well the cracked ribs and the bouquet of green, yellow and purple bruises on her chest. But, still. It just doesn't seem right to see him like that. Once she's sure her traveling companion isn't going to topple over, she hurries over to the fence.

Dusting his tux off to save some sort of dignity, Woods follows along with a much slower step behind Odessa as she hurries over to the abandoned parking lot. There, hoisted up on a chain link fence by his belt loop on a metal hook, Peter dangles helplessly, the sleeves of his black jacket caught on barbed wire at the top of the fence, while horrible, red eyed ravens bite and peck at his neck, leaving small red spots bleeding open and trickling down to darken cloth before sealing shut entirely. It's like some macabre homage to Prometheus.

Or, you know, the Scarecrow.

"Oh hey ah… Thanks for— Agh!" Peter awkwardly smiles, wincing when a raven plucks out one of his eyes and gnaws on it angrily before a new one blossoms into the hollow, bleeding socket. Grimacing, Peter struggles on the fence, arms wiggling from side to side while booted feet kick their heels at the fence causing it to jingle.

As Odessa draws close, the ravens all spread their wings and caw loudly, flapping and shrieking before rising up high into the sky, leaving loose black pinions raining down amidst the charcoal gray ash. "Oh— thanks for scaring them off… they're— yeah." Something seems remarkably wrong with Peter.

"Holy…" Odessa presses a hand against Peter's shoulder. "Hold still a second, okay? I'm going to get you down from here." She looks over her shoulder. "Woods, can you kind of brace him while I climb up and free his sleeves? I don't want him toppling off and me having to try and patch up a cracked skull." Only once it looks like he'll comply does Odessa grab hold of the fence and then find purchase with her terribly practical heels, hoisting herself up the chained links to where Peter's arms are snagged.

"Hold on. I've got you." Odessa carefully disengages one arm from the barbed wire without destroying the sleeves too badly. "No smart remarks, buddy." She leeeeans across Peter's body to unsnag his other arm, balanced precariously as she does. "And… there!" She smiles triumphantly, but when his arm swings free, it rocks her already shaky position. "Whoa!" Quickly, she reaches out to grab hold of something. Anything. Preferrably not the barbed wire.

Skirts, climbing, bracing Petrelli — at least Woods can allow himself a quick flick of the eyes in the direction of Odessa's skirt while she'sup on the fence. It does manage to bring a bit of a smile, despite the situation. "So ah…" Watching Peter come down from the fence, all loose and limber like a ragdoll, Woods flicks a disbelieving stare up at Odessa, then back over to Peter.

"How's… it hanging, Petrelli?" It takes a buffoon to laugh at their own jokes, and let it never be said that Woods couldn't classify himself as a buffoon, what with all the guffawing and chuckling he does until he realizes nobody else is laughing, and then of course Odessa just topples right off of the fence and lands squarely on Woods knocking him flat on his stomach to the ashy pavement.

Peter tries to help himself to his feet after being freed, legs wobbly and arms like noodles, it is for a time an exercise in futility until he manages to get a semblance of balance back, looking from Woods to Odessa with a furrowed brow.

"Hey ah, thanks for pulling me down from there. I thought I might be up there forever," he notes with a scowl, one hand massaging his shoulder while he rotates his arm around to try and get the kinks out. "Uh…" one eye narrows, and Peter's brow kicks up, creasing that scar across his face.

"Oh, no, I'm perfectly fine down here this is bloody comfortable," Woods groans from beneath Odessa, one hand slapping at her ankle futily.

"There are worse positions to be in, Woods," Odessa groans as she rolls off the man and onto the pavement. Laying on her back and staring up at Peter, she asks, "Are you all right? Who strung you up like that?" Who would do such a thing? That's cruel even by her standards.

There's no disagreement from Woods, only a thoughtful look of brows creased together and a hand stroking his chin as he considers the manifold layers of truth to that statement. Peter, however, seems blithely ignorant of the conversation, staring out at the street Odessa and Woods had diverged from, one that rather unexpectedly looks to turn into a fork of a path not far from where they are, double yellow lines going in both directions as lines on a highway are often wont to do.

Rubbing at the back of his head, Peter squints one eye and looks to Odessa, a dark brow raised. "Oh ah— well that would be the wicked witch, of course." Peter's last words, of course are echoed sarcastically by Woods as he finally pulls himself up to his feet. "She… well I'm not really sure why she'd put me up on that fence," he notes with a goofy grimace, "but it was uncomfortable." Dark eyes wander down to Odessa's shoes, then back up. "So, what's a girl like you doing here? This part of the city's pretty dangerous, it's the witch's territory."

"I think I dropped a house on her, actually." Odessa climbs to her feet and brushes the dust and ash from her skirt as best she can. "Oh, here." Firm hands turn Woods around so she can brush at his back. "Let me help." She looks back over to Peter, "Doesn't that seem queer? I mean, houses don't just fall out of the sky." She turns her head to Woods again. "I still don't know how we ended up in some house together." That almost makes the least amount of sense of anything so far. Aside from Woods being alive, of course. That's the most glaringly obvious thing.

Satisfied that they're both presentable once more, Odessa drops her hand from Woods' shoulder and proclaims, "There." She ambles back toward the street and stares in the direction they were headed, shoulders sagging with the oppressive weight of impending defeat. "Which way do we go?" Dark blue eyes turn to Peter. "We're trying to get to the Emerald Tower. Do you know where that is?"

Peter quirks a brow, then grimaces in a warm but somewhat sharp-witted manner. "Oh, did you? A whole house? Well that's wonderful!" He pauses, furrowing his brow in thought, "Or, or it's horrible. It could be either I guess," one hand rubs at his chin, and Woods' eyes follow the motion, remembering how he made it himself, and now seeing it in action begins to feel a bit reticent about the whole affair.

Peter stares over at the road, then glances back at Odessa with one raised brow. "Oh, the Emerald Tower? Why every road leads there, it the most important place that never was!" There's a all too aw shucks demeanor to Peter, like he's been pulled out of the Andy Griffith show, and it's jarring. Woods is just staring, now, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the sheer stupidity of this entire scenario.

"Well," Peter begins to say, motioning down one street, "That way is a very nice way…" he notes with a nod of his head, "It's pleasant down that way too!" Woods's lips part, brow twitching now as he approaches Peter with his hands held out, as if demanding that he make sense.

"You— this— I'm done!" His hands go up in the air, "I'm done before he goes on about only having a brain of straw this is ridiculous!" Woods turns around in a huff, rubbing his hands repeatedly over the top of his head. "This— you've got to be kidding me, this is just— argh!"

As Peter explains the different routes the duo — or trio, as the case may be — might take to reach the Emerald Tower, Odessa leans over to whisper to Woods. "Uh, what's wrong with Petrelli?" She jerks back quickly as Woods goes stalking over to Peter, blinking several times as she listens to him go off on his little tirade. "Woods," she sighs almost exasperatedly. "No one's brain can be made of straw. The nervous system wouldn't function correctly." Duh. …Then again, Peter doesn't appear to be functioning correctly at all, does he? Not that his brain could possibly be made of straw.

The woman in blue gingham turns back to the road in dismay. "Is there a shortcut or something?" Before Woods can get any further wrapped up, she grabs him by his tux sleeve and pulls him over to her to whisper urgently in his ear. "You're sane, and I'm… Well, I'm a little confused, but I'm still okay. We need to stick together on this. Okay?"

Furrowing his brow, Peter tilts his head to the side and circles around Odessa, ignoring her words to Woods or perhaps not assuming that anything out of the ordinary is, indeed, happening. "Well, the Wizard at the Emerald Tower's supposed to be a right smart guy," Peter notes dopily, pacing back and forth before looking back to Odessa, "Do you think he'd help me… I don't know, get a clue, or something? I always seem to be, you know, making the wrong decisions or just blundering through tough, important things in life…"

This is either the most gratuitous and self-indulgent dream Odessa has ever had, or all of her wishes have finally come true regarding brain damage and former Agent Petrelli. Peter snaps his fingers in a eureka gesture, and turns to look back to Odessa. "You know, I think I do know a shortcut! We just have to, uh," his head tilts to the side, glancing down on ruined street, "have to go through a bad part of town."

Still leaned in toward Woods, Odessa continues in a hush, "Alternate reality. That's what this is. Must be. I mean, just look at Peter. He's absolutely brainle-" She stops short and exchanges looks with the Agent. Oh, right, he already was that, wasn't he? "Okay, so maybe that's not the best gauge." She gnaws on her lower lip as she considers Peter's proposed route for a moment. Finally, she nods. "That should be okay. You've still got your abilities, haven't you?" She did see him healing, but it never hurts to be absolutely sure, right?

"Huh? Abilities? I— " Peter grimaces awkwardly, "Well, you know you're right! I do!" There's an awkward smile by the scarred man as he folds his arms across his chest. "Well, you know, I probably could've used telekinesis to get myself off of that there fence," he points over his shoulder embarrassingly towards the fence he was tied up to. "Boy, I'm sure glad you're around." He's getting worse as this drags on, but then— then he just offers out an arm towards Odessa with a crooked smile.

"Oh for the love of God," Woods can already see what's coming, watching with blind rage as Peter offers an arm out to Woods too, a broad smile spread from ear to ear. "Pete, I swear to Christ if you start— "

"So, we're off to see the Wizard, right?" Peter's smile grows some, "We're — " knocked on our asses, from the looks of it. Peter crumples like rice paper from Woods' right hook, and by the time Odessa registers Peter on his ass holding his mouth, Woods is shaking his hand painfully and stalking down the road towards Central Park, the direction Peter indicates as the shortcut.